The light… it burns. Not a warm, comfortable light, but a harsh, clinical white that seems to claw at my eyes. I hate it. I hate this place, this cold, sterile room, and the smell of antiseptic that clings to everything. I shifted, trying to get comfortable on this awful, hard bed, but it’s useless.

Then it happened. A cold, damp hand – surprisingly gentle, actually – reached into my mouth. It pulled my tongue out, a shocking, invasive act. My jaw clenched instinctively, a growl rumbling deep in my chest, but it didn’t stop them. They were studying it, examining my teeth, my gums.

I wanted to roar, to lash out, to break free and tear this whole place apart. But a strange fog was settling over my thoughts, blurring the edges of my anger, clouding my instinct. It wasn’t fear, exactly – though a sharp pang of it certainly pulsed through me. It was more like… confusion. I didn’t understand why they were doing this. What was it about my mouth that they needed to scrutinize?

My white fur felt thick and clumsy as I tried to pull my tongue back, a frustrated snarl twisting my features. I tried to focus, to fight through the haze, to understand their intentions. But the more I tried, the more distant everything felt, like I was watching a strange dream unfold.

“Easy, Yokarion,” a voice said, soothing and utterly devoid of warmth. It wasn’t frightening, but it didn’t help. It only amplified the unsettling feeling of being exposed, of being a specimen, a puzzle they were trying to piece together. I just wanted to be home. And I wanted them to stop looking in my maw.

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